


falling stars

by pigeonmistress



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1491067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigeonmistress/pseuds/pigeonmistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gods can't die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	falling stars

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Don't read this for a happy ending, it doesn't have one.
> 
> I wrote this when I was feeling pretty terrible the other day, hoping a little writing would put me in a better mood. It did the trick, but I can't make any promises on quality! 
> 
> Hopefully you all enjoy it! Any comments you have are very welcome!

Leonard hates this feeling.

 

There’s this heavy, throbbing pain in his chest like someone is squeezing his heart and with every beat it gets more and more unbearable. A weight unlike any other presses down on him, threatening to crush him underneath. Each time he tries to breathe the four walls seem to tremble around him, threatening to collapse and turn to rubble, leaving him bruised and broken underneath. His own blood is poison, spreading this strange sickness to every inch of his body until he can’t move.

 

And the best part of all of this, what cuts down to his very core and carves deep, gaping holes into his soul, is that every god damned ounce of this pain is completely and entirely his own fault.

 

_It’s his fault_.

 

He was a doctor. A good one, or so he thought. But when it came down to it he was as helpless as the rest of them.

 

It looked so wrong. His stomach turned and twisted itself into knots until he could barely stand. The only thing that kept him from throwing up at the sight of the black, nondescript body bag that rolled in to the medbay was the crowd of onlookers buzzing around him, each one radiating so much agony that he didn’t need empathy to feel their pain. He was barely holding on himself, viciously clinging to his control as the ground began to crumble away beneath him.

 

It looked so wrong. The pallor of death did not fit him, turning the brilliant light that always pulsed beneath his skin into a dark, empty void and bleeding the very energy that his presence seemed to infuse into the air until there was nothing left. The sight of it made his mouth taste like bile, stale and bitter, so he tried to look anywhere but at the body on the table.

 

It looked so wrong. He shouldn’t be dead. It seemed impossible, that he could be as mortal as the rest of them. He had always appeared to be a mischievous god, plucked right from myth. He was more beautiful than the brightest star and seemed to hold the entire galaxy in the palm of his hand.  But here he was, nothing more than a man. The star that he had once orbited had burnt out and all that was left was this husk, cold and empty.

 

Leonard wouldn’t loose him. He couldn’t.

 

He never got the chance to say it, not in words. He had been foolish; embittered from a relationship that seemed a lifetime ago and unable to just say something. Anything.

 

He would say it this time. He had to.

 

He raced against the clock; all too aware that time was against him. He worked well under pressure, but he wasn’t sure that he could handle it this time. He felt his foundation begin to crack under the effort of holding himself together and trying to work a miracle. He clawed desperately at what was left of his resolve and held on tightly. He was so certain that it would work, that he would scrape by.

 

Gods couldn't die.

 

The blood of that _creature_ had worked on the tribble, he had been certain it would work on him too. Leonard had to believe it would, what else was left? It had to be enough. It had to be.

 

But it wasn’t.

 

_It wasn’t enough._

 

_He was never enough._

 

His star had fallen, leaving the heavens darker and colder without him, and it was his fault.

 

Leonard swallowed weakly, feeling the burn of the bourbon slide down his throat along with his guilt, and stood up on unsteady legs. The world swam around him, whether from his drunken stupor or the physical weight of what he had done, he didn’t know.

 

He walked over to the window, stumbling over a few of the bottles littered on the floor. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on the cold glass, air rattling in his lungs as he exhaled and watched the fog creep up the windowpane. Suddenly a powerful sob shook his body, surging out from somewhere deep within him and bringing him to his knees. He dropped his empty glass, too far gone to hear it shatter into pieces on the floor. Leonard whispered the name quietly, clinging to it like a prayer as he began to collapse onto the floor.

 

“ _Jim_.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
